The boys and I were at Deli Lane, waiting for our breakfast to arrive. They’d already examined the forks, the sugar packets, and the napkins. Then we did two rounds of “Little Bunny Foo Foo.” Still no food. They were getting restless.

“Hold your horses,” I said.

“Horses,” said Benjamin.

“Yes, your horses. Hold them,” I said, deciding it was time to discuss horse anatomy. “Do your horses have eyes?”

The boys nodded.

“Do they have legs?”

Out of nowhere one of the waiters sets a plate with half a freshly-baked chocolate-chip cookie in front of each boy…. a miracle on par with the loaves and the fishes. I quickly removed the plates (ack!) and managed to take half of Jonah’s cookie before he ate it (a wee too much sugar first thing in the morning). By the time I turned to Benjamin he had already crammed the whole cookie in his mouth like a python devouring a rat.

Sugar consumption aside, I was grateful to that waiter – by the time the boys finished the cookies, our breakfast was served. And they still had room for eggs, toast, potatoes (Benjamin) and bacon (Jonah).

Later in the week we went to Barnes & Noble and discovered – to my horror – they’d removed the play train set in the children’s area. What madness is this?! That means the only available diversions are books and stuffed animals. Many board books flew off the shelves.

After a few minutes of this excitement, we left to get a bagel snack across the street.

Without the stroller. Which was not such a big deal – I hold each boy’s hand as we cross the street.

But I - with my debilitating brain atrophy that worsens each day and is now causing serious marital strife – decided to get a decaf latte to go. Which meant – I realized as the light changed and we could cross the street to get back to the car – I had only one free hand.

Which is normally not a problem since we’ve been working on me holding Jonah’s hand and Benjamin holding Jonah’s other hand. But this was four lanes of traffic to cross, with another four lanes on the cross-street, so holding each of their hands was mandatory.

Coffee in my left hand and a hand from each boy in my right hand, we started across the street, tripod-style. Three steps in, Benjamin says “Pie! Zapato!” (Foot! Shoe!) His too-big shoe had fallen off.

We stopped; I grabbed the shoe and stuck it under my left armpit. I took each of their hands and we resumed crossing. Half-way across I hear “Pie! Zapato!” Benjamin had lost his other shoe.

The light was about to change. As I began to formulate a desperate, wordless prayer, a woman came out of nowhere asking if I needed help.

“Pick him up!” I said, pointing to Jonah. “Carry him to the other side!”

Surprisingly, Jonah was okay with this arrangement. I scooped up Benjamin (and my coffee) and trotted across the street. We put the boys on a bench and she remarked that I was awfully brave to do this without a stroller. “You’re lucky they don’t run away from you!”

I debating replying that luck had nothing to do with it. I figure God knew I could handle either one wild toddler or two relatively calm toddlers who are – for the most part – obedient. Not to mention I’ve invested much time and energy into training them not to run off.

But instead of voicing all this, I thanked her profusely for her kindness.

[It occurs to me now I should’ve just …Left…The…Coffee…Cup…Behind. But I guess since it was going to provided a needed moment of oasis on the trip home, it did not occur to me then.  Also, why did Benjamin traipse around just fine in those shoes all day, but they fell off right when we were crossing the street??]